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duncan 3d
shoulder length brown hair
in a Justin Bieber swoop over my left eye.
***** glasses and the same grey hoodie everyday.
i am king of the middle school nobodies,
i built a throne out of
mediocre essays and failed math assignments.

in 7th grade
i was mortified that someone might
see me sweat through my shirts
so i kept my hoodie on.

it was an extra large mens grey hoodie.
it almost went down to my knees.
but i remember one day in
6th grade
i wore a t-shirt.
one of the hockey boys remarked how
big my arms were and wrapped
his tiny hand around my bicep and
squeezed. my extra skin ran through
his fingers like sand.

in 8th grade
i leave my gym clothes at home on accident.
so i grace the dodgeball court in a graphic tee.
a picture of pluto, and wrapped around it
"dont worry pluto, im not a planet either"
and before i could make it back to the only changing room in the school
i hear a boy yell "are you sure you're not a planet?"

in 9th grade
i walk to football tryouts.
cleats on the pavement.
one boy asks the group
what part of the game we'll be best at.
the fast boys start to race
and the strong boys start to shove.

"i have good hands" i say
"but im fat too"
and everyone laughs but it doesnt
feel like sweat or a planet or a big grey hoodie
it feels like a joke were all in on.
like they hired the clown this time
instead of finding one off the street.
at least this time i get a pat on the back
for my trouble.

it was on the street that day that i decided
to wear fat jokes like a face tattoo
or a wrestling mask
my new persona has entered the ring
and he cant lose
because no one is fighting.

i am big but i am hollow.
self inflicted wounds are like
coastal erosion.
duncan Feb 13
a ******* a date once asked me
how i got so wise,
she spun the milk into her
tea, i stared at the twister
she made in her mug with
a tiny spoon.

i still dont know how
to tell someone
i want to impress
that i dont know what im doing.
duncan Jan 28
i think i will be quick to marry.
the words feel so easy
they must sit on the
bridge of my lips.
waiting to be let go,
waiting to to be shot
like a gun, or a cannon,
anything that could ****.

sometimes though
i feel like a moth in the
dark, hopeless and even
blinder than usual.
theres no switch on the
wall either. this house needs
new wires and new
thighs and new fingers
and a smaller face
and maybe a
tight stomach
and maybe then i could
just be the light
instead of looking
for mine in
other people.
duncan Jan 24
i found an old picture from a day
so great i still remember
where i sat, just how
jokes were told, just how
drunk i pretended
to be.

knowing that day
is gone makes it all feel
so futile, though im glad i
have a picture.
some just get to dream
of good days i
have a receipt.
where did i go
duncan Nov 2018
i went to school with
a boy named Stewart.
his hair was short
and blonde. his jaw
sharp. his tongue
silver.

Stewart and i
were very good friends.
we lived on the same street.
we would walk to
school together.

i was known
as a "good kid"
Stewart was not.
but we got along
quite well.

Stewart was always
getting into trouble.
anytime anything went wrong,
you knew it was Stewart.

"it was me"
"i did that"
"sorry"

is what Stewart would say.
i could never imagine
how one boy could
cause all that
trouble.

one day.
i broke the pencil sharpener.
and from the front of the room,
the teacher asked aloud
which one of us
had done the deed.

"oh i did that"
"sorry"

said Stewart

Stewart left the class that day.
he sat in the hallway until lunch.
just another boy
another shenanigan.
oh how could we ever
help poor Stewart
he is too young to be
this bad.
duncan Nov 2018
white death
is perched in a
tall tree.

it is the dead of
winter. there is snow
like it were soil.
the wind wisps a
carte blanche. theres
nothing to see here.

i hope you are
hidden well
in the white too.
white death looks down
a long scope.

white death hides,
the ruby burn from
one cigarette
behind his hand.
he takes a single drag
and butts it
on a branch.
while grey smoke fills
a white world.
duncan Nov 2018
she stands so tall
and mighty, like she's
waiting to prove us wrong.

i stumble when i stand
on the subway but she
stands so idle
like her shoes were glued
to the floor. these conditions
must be perfect.

but theres never
a good reason to ride
the subway past six pm.
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